


Scatter the grace in your eyes

by Lacerta26



Series: In the crooks of your body, I find my religion [3]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Glove Kink, M/M, Richard "Dick" Ellis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacerta26/pseuds/Lacerta26
Summary: Richard wearing his gloves catches Thomas's attention.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: In the crooks of your body, I find my religion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045792
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Scatter the grace in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> As with all the works in this little collection the context is Thomas and Richard are no longer in service and have moved to York together!
> 
> Title from Sappho.
> 
> It is probably very unhygienic to do this with gloves you wear outside, but you know that.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Richard, coming home from work, finds Thomas in the hallway as he’s about to head upstairs and with the door securely shut behind them he catches Thomas is kiss before he’s even taken off his hat. 

Thomas loses equilibrium at the ease with which they can do this, kiss slow and full, just inside the doorway of their home. Richard is chilled from being outside, the tip of his nose is cold, but his gloves, against Thomas’s jaw are warm, heat leeched from his skin in to the soft leather. Stepping back Richard smiles, trailing his thumb over Thomas’s bottom lip and a kiss, however fervant, that was only supposed to be in greeting has Thomas desperately wanting in the middle of the afternoon.

‘Would you like to join me upstairs?’ Thomas says when he regains use of his voice. 

Richard raises an eyebrow but he shrugs off his coat eagerly all the same, hangs his hat on a peg by the door. He’s about to take off his gloves, his hand flexed to pull them off one finger at a time and Thomas reaches out to stop him. 

‘You could keep them on?’ 

It’s been so many years but there’s still something that makes him pause, when he asks Richard for something like this, unsure how to explain himself or justify what he might want, but Richard is always clear, if he says no he says it lightly, with no reflection on Thomas, no judgement for his honesty, it’s always only a matter of preference. 

Today, though, he’s smiling, ‘could I now?’

‘If you liked,’ Thomas knows he’s blushing but Richard is close and comforting and that makes it easier to be honest. 

‘I take it _you_ would?’ Richard turns back to him, takes his hands and strokes his thumbs across Thomas’s knuckles, the leather smooth across his skin and it makes him _ache._

‘Please,’ Thomas meets his eyes and they share a moment of understanding. 

‘Okay,’ Richard steps back, ‘after you.’ 

Thomas takes the stairs two at a time. 

Upstairs Richard does take his gloves off to begin with, to take off their clothes, or more accurately to strip Thomas naked with such tender dedication it makes Thomas breathless. He always feels like he’s handed Richard something when he admits to his desires like this, a way for Richard to take care of him, to let go and let it happen in a place where he’s safe. 

From the bed Thomas relaxes into the cool sheets to watch Richard undress until he’s down to his combinations, standing across from Thomas in his socks and garters and then, nothing. Richard crosses the room, sets his clothes over the chair in the corner and picks up the gloves; it makes Thomas’s mouth go dry, feeling suddenly hot all over, even though he’s naked, like he can feel the air in the room, tight across his skin, like he needs to reach out and touch and be touched in turn. 

Richard climbs onto the bed beside him, one hand cool and soothing against Thomas’s thigh, ‘you’ll tell me if you don’t like it, won’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Thomas manages to speak, nods to be sure Richard has understood and Richard leans forward to kiss him, a soft press of lips before they begin and then he’s sitting back, pulling his gloves back on. 

He flexes his fingers to work his hands into each glove, then curls them into fists before releasing, Thomas’s focus intent on the turn of Richard’s wrists as he does up the buttons. It would be distracting except it’s the exact thing he’s _meant_ to be concentrating on. Now that Thomas thinks about it he’s been caught by the action so many times; Richard pulling on his gloves outside the post office in Downton when they first met; it was an arresting sight then, it still is now. 

Richard smiles again, settling into place, his hands hovering above Thomas, and then he finally moves forward to touch him. 

Thomas closes his eyes. 

With his eyes shut Thomas can focus on all his other senses; the warmth of Richard beside him, the smell of his hair, the soft passes of his hands over Thomas’s arms, circling his wrists, stroking gently over his palms, never settling in once place for long. The feeling as Richard strokes his hands across Thomas’s body is electrifying; the tacky, slightly sticky sensation as the leather catches against his skin, dry but almost like it might leave oily trails against him, proof of where Richard has touched him. 

Richard traces Thomas’s sternum, counts his ribs, proving again and again that he knows Thomas’s body, knows just where to touch him to make him sigh with pleasure and sink into the syrupy safety of Richard looking after him. 

The leather of the gloves feels cool, having been off Richard’s hands for a while, but buttery smooth as he draws patterns over Thomas’s chest, circling his nipples, tracing the arch of his collarbones. It feels as if there’s more than one set of hands touching him, almost anonymous. It’s an indirect touch, the gloves making Richard’s hands bulky, not like skin on skin but Richard doesn’t lose any of his finesse, touching Thomas in all the places he likes. 

It feels like an age, _years,_ before Richard’s hands move lower than his naval. By this point Thomas is so hard it almost hurts and the sudden pressure of Richard’s fingers at his hips is intense, pleasure so fierce it comes out of him as a sob. Richard feels so far away connected as they are with only his hands at Thomas’s hips and Thomas’s eyes closed. 

Then Richard is there, suddenly, taking his hands off Thomas’s body, kissing him sweetly, ‘Thomas, love, open your eyes if you can. Look at me.’

Thomas manages to get his eyes open, to see Richard smiling down at him and he feels better instantly, connected again.

‘How do you feel?’ says Richard and Thomas can’t help but laugh, gently. 

‘Good, I feel good. Carry on.’ 

Richard doesn’t go back to where he left off, starts again at Thomas’s shoulders. It’s infuriating, but sensible, given how on edge he already feels. The seam of the glove against his nipple makes him whine, pressing up into the feeling, and Richard’s mouth against his neck is bliss. Richard follows the path of his hands with his mouth, sucking kisses into Thomas’s skin, hard enough to mark and Thomas’s hands find Richard’s hair.

‘God, _Dick.’_

He gets an answering chuckle for that and Richard shifts lower on the bed, his tongue in the groove of Thomas’s hip and his hands on the inside of his thighs. The leather of Richard’s gloves has warmed up now, smooth against the soft skin between his legs and Richard’s breath is hot against him. He doesn’t go anywhere near Thomas’s prick, dripping and wet at the tip already, skirting around it to scratch at the soft skin of his belly.

‘Dick,’ Thomas says again and Richard looks up at him, his eyes soft and Thomas knows he’ll give him anything he asks for, ‘will you fuck me?’ 

Richard kisses his hip and smiles, ‘anytime you ask me,’ as he reaches for the vaseline in the bedside cabinet. 

He sits back on his heels for a beat and Thomas registers just how hard he is, that he’s enjoying this as much as Thomas is, if not for the specifics then for giving Thomas what he’s asked for. 

‘I’ll have to take them off. To get you ready.’

‘No, no,’ Thomas shakes his head, ‘I’ll do it,’ he takes the vaseline out of Richards hands, shuffles himself back against the pillows to reach down between his legs with one slick finger. 

Richard doesn’t stop touching him, as he opens himself up, stroking his hands across Thomas’s body, a random pattern that’s impossible to follow, keeps him on edge and wanting, guessing the next place Richard will touch. It’s distracting, he keeps forgetting he has a job to do here, to get himself ready for Richard. 

‘That’s it, love,’ Richard whispers, right into Thomas’s ear, gentle encouragement, their bodies so close together and with all the places they’re touching Thomas isn’t sure where he ends and Richard begins. 

It’s an awkward angle but Thomas doesn’t want to move, reposition them and end up with Richard further away from him somehow. He moves his hand, presses deeper, then back out to slick his fingers again and go back in with two, opening his fingers as he withdraws, relishing in the stretch, the ache. 

‘Okay,’ he manages on a stuttered breath, ‘I’m ready.’

‘No, a little bit longer,’ Richard always has more patience for this than Thomas ever does, takes his time, treats the act as more than a perfunctory means to an end. 

Thomas does as he’s told anyway, gets more vaseline on his fingers, his head tipped back against Richard’s shoulder as he touches himself inside. He crosses and uncrosses his fingers, teasing just at the edge of his body, just like Richard does when he takes care of this, barely inside as he shifts towards his hand. It would be overwhelming but Richard runs soothing hands down his flanks, murmuring in his ear, words that Thomas can’t make out but the tone is so very calming and Thomas carries on, waiting until he's told to stop. 

‘There you are,’ Richard stills Thomas's hand and moves back down the bed, his hands back on Thomas’s thighs, spreading his legs, 'ready?'

'You know I am,' Thomas likes it, that Richard makes sure, checks one last time before he's pressing forward, inside and so perfect as he fills Thomas up.

They stay still for a beat, as Thomas readjusts to the sensation, and then with a smirk that promises trouble Richard shifts his hips and takes hold of Thomas’s prick in the same moment. He doesn’t move, just holds Thomas, lightly, in the cupped palm of his hand; it’s the first touch to his prick all evening and the fact it’s with Richard’s gloved hand is all a bit too much. Thomas feels as if he’ll come if Richard moves, inevitable, and he’s barely even been fucked, all Richard’s done is touch him, tenderly and with so much care. 

Richard must see it in his face because he moves his hand to Thomas’s hip, his grip firm and grounding and begins to move. Slowly at first and then a building rhythm that takes Thomas closer and closer to the peak of his pleasure, one they’ve been climbing towards since Richard first kissed him in the hallway. 

Thomas gasps, tries to form words and Richard presses a finger to Thomas’s mouth, not to silence him, not really, and the scent of leather, sweet and slightly cloying, is all-encompassing. Thomas knows he’s never going to be able to smell it and not think of this, Richard giving him everything he needs, ever since they first met; with his eyes closed Thomas is back there, outside the police station in York with Richard looking at him so tenderly, Richard reaching out, touching him with one gloved hand and changing their lives forever. He hasn’t thought about it in such a long time but he can now without pain, the smell of the rain on the cobbles, the smell of the leather, Richard’s gloves and the seats in the car. 

‘Dick, please, Richard. Touch me,’ he’d wanted so badly for Richard to touch him then, to touch him again with purpose, but they hadn’t, not until Richard kissed him in the Butler’s Pantry. 

‘I am touching you,’ Richard squeezes with his hand still at Thomas’s thighs, the thumb of his other hand against Thomas’s bottom lip, his fingers at Thomas’s pulse point. 

‘Not - not like that,’ Thomas doesn’t really know what he’s asking for but, as ever, Richard knows just what to give him. He puts two fingers at Thomas’s lips, gently encouraging, and Thomas opens his mouth, his tongue between Richard’s fingers, sucking on them, tasting leather and feeling the soft, supple give of the gloves against his teeth. 

‘Touch yourself for me,’ says Richard with so much desire in his voice Thomas is complying before he’s even finished his sentence. 

He strokes himself in time with the movement of Richard’s hips; his eyes closed, mouth full, it lets him focus, all his senses occupied, filled with Richard and centred on where they’re touching, where they’re joined. Richard keeps moving his hips, faster now, more direct, hitting that place inside him, making him gasp around the fingers in his mouth. 

Thomas feels it approaching, breathes in through his nose, the scent of leather and Richard and sex all around them now, and lets it happen, arching into Richard’s movement, ready for it to take him. He teeters on the brink of climax as he strokes himself faster and lets Richard’s fingers fall from his mouth, gasping, panting with the sheer bloody joy of it. Opens his eyes to watch as Richard moves his hand, still shining with spit from Thomas’s mouth, takes over, presses his thumb to the crown of Thomas’s prick and that’s it, the touch of firm, smooth, warm leather, takes him over and he comes. Richard fucks him through it, slower and slower, until he stills too, leaning forward to catch at Thomas’s mouth with his own and gasp out his release against Thomas’s lips. 

They lie there, breath shallow, sweaty and sated until Richard moves back, pulls out, and pulls at the finger of one of his gloves with his teeth, pulling it off and dropping it over the side of the bed. Thomas’s mouth goes abruptly dry at the sight, even though he’s just come; he will never be able to watch Richard going anything with those gloves ever again. 

They settle comfortably side by side, touching at shoulder and hip, Richard’s foot hooked round Thomas’s ankle. 

‘I was thinking about it - when we met, when we went to York,’ says Thomas and Richard frowns, the past for Thomas is not always rosy, but Thomas takes his hand, to show him he’s fine, more than fine, now, ‘and you put your finger to my lips outside the police station. I couldn’t believe you could be so bold.’

Richard chuckles, ‘and that’s what brought this on, is it?’

‘No, I’d forgotten. This reminded me, you reminded me. You’re always taking care of me.’

‘We take care of each other, Thomas,’ says Richard tracing his finger, bare now, along Thomas’s chest. 

‘Yes, we do,’ Thomas kisses him, breaks apart to look him in the eyes, ‘so if there’s anything _you’d_ like you’d only have to ask.’

‘I shall keep that in mind, Mr Barrow, I shall keep that in mind.’

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://lacerta26.tumblr.com)


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